Terms of Service
by Kaede-tama
Summary: Matthew Williams finally signs up for a Facebook account and agrees to its Terms of Service. He, however, doesn't recall agreeing to be Alfred's maid. USCan, oneshot


**Terms of Service**

**. . .**

"_By clicking 'I Agree,' you hereby agree to having read and understood the Terms of Service and Privacy Policy."_

Matthew Williams dutifully checked the _I Agree_ box and clicked _Next. _He was greeted by a blue and white page - he was reminded by his northern neighbor's flag - and big words that read, "Welcome to Facebook."

His fate was sealed.

**. . .**

**Matthew Williams** joined Facebook.

**. . .**

**Matthew Williams** is now friends with **Alfred F. Jones**, **Francis Bonnefoy**, **Gilbert Beilschmidt**, and **5 others.  
>Alfred F. Jones<strong> likes this.

**Alfred F. Jones** MATTIE! its bout time you got a FB, bro!

**Matthew Williams** If that's how everyone speaks on here, I'm going to regret joining.

**Arthur Kirkland** No, Alfred just insists upon making our eyes bleed with his butchering of the English language.**  
>Francis Bonnefoy<strong> and **Lovino Vargas** like this.

**Alfred F. Jones** shut up eyebrows

**. . .**

**Alfred F. Jones** to **Matthew Williams** um so u agreed to the ToS right?

**Matthew Williams **to** Alfred F. Jones** Al, I didn't have a choice.

**Alfred F. Jones** to **Matthew Williams** good. good.

**. . .**

For some reason, Matthew felt a shudder run down his spine. He paid it no mind, though, too busy rifling through his cabinet for some food. Kumawhat's-his-name was pawing impatiently at his pajamas in an attempt to hurry the search for food.

"Hurry," the little bear demanded. "Hungry. Want food."

Reaching down to pat his pet, Matthew mumbled, "Of course, Kuma." His phone then vibrated, signaling that he'd received an e-mail. Upon checking, he found out it was another batch of friend requests for Facebook.

_If only,_ he sighed forlornly,_ they paid this much attention to me in real life._

**. . .**

**Matthew Williams **is now friends with **Feliciano Vargas**, **Ivan Braginsky**, **Lars van Rijn**, and **3 others.**

**Alfred F. Jones** Bro, im glad that you're making new friends but WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE THE BASTARD COMMIE AND LARS VAN DICK

**Alfred F. Jones ***whoops I meant lars van rijn

**Lars van Rijn** Im not sharing any more pot with you

**Alfred F. Jones** idc

**Lars van Rijn** sure you don't

**Matthew Williams** Stop arguing about marijuana. And Alfred, I can be friends with whoever I want, thanks.

**Alfred F. Jones** but why IVAN?

**Matthew Williams** Why not?  
><strong>Ivan Braginsky <strong>likes this.

**Alfred F. Jones** …

**Matthew Williams** Yeah, I thought so.

**Lars van Rijn** we're talking about pot not marijuana

**. . .**

Alfred F. Jones pouted at his laptop screen. His brother wasn't noticed a lot in real life, so how come he was being friends with all of those people?

When Matthew finally caved in to his demands of getting a Facebook, Alfred had imagined him to be his only friend. And he wasn't trying to be mean - he was just possessive. Really, really, really possessive.

He briefly considered asking Mark Zuckerberg to specifically alter Matthew's account to only having one friend. Matthew would have no choice; he'd have to pick his best friend/older brother/kind-of-stalker, Alfred!

The American cackled, reaching for his cell phone.

**. . .**

**Matthew Williams** What the… Why is it saying that I can only have one friend-?

**Francis Bonnefoy** Maybe it's a glitch?

**Feliciano Vargas** mine doesn't say that!

**Alfred F. Jones** that's weird

**Matthew Williams** It's making me choose only one friend…

**. . .**

**Matthew Williams** to** Alfred F. Jones** Stop messing with my account!

**Alfred F. Jones** to **Matthew Williams **why r u accusing me of doing such a thing? Blasphemy!

**. . .**

Alfred frowned at the screen, his glasses flashing in reflection of the bright light. He had attempted to find his brother's profile again, only to realize that he wasn't showing up in the search suggestions.

That meant…Matthew had deleted him from his friends' list?

Panicked, Alfred clicked on his northern neighbor's profile picture - a dorky one of him wearing his old thick-framed glasses. His fear was confirmed when he saw the button on the top: _"Add as a friend."_

Matthew. Had. Deleted. Him.

"What the fuck!" Alfred exclaimed, more out of surprise than anger. He snatched his phone from his pocket and hit 1(Matthew's speed dial). There was a few seconds of ringing until someone picked up.

"Hello?" The voice, though sounding drowsy and muffled, was unmistakably Matthew's. There was some rustling before the Canadian continued, "Al? What do you want?"

"You deleted me from your friends' list?" Alfred tried to keep his tone from rising to hysterics.

Whoops, too late for that.

There was a sigh. "Yes, Al - but only because you obviously tinkered with my account. By the way, what _did_ you do with it?"

Alfred fingered the hem of his shirt absently. "I told Zuckerberg to alter your Facebook so you can only have one friend…" He prayed that his long-time crush wouldn't ask why. (Because the answer was, obviously, Alfred was irrevocably and undeniably in love with him. But he digresses.)

"Why?"

Just his luck.

Alfred shrugged even though his geographical counterpart couldn't see it. "I didn't like that you accepting so many friend requests."

"…So you actually told Mark Zuckerberg to-" Matthew cut himself off, sighing again. "Why would you _not_ like that? You're the one always telling me to go out and make new friends."

"Yeah, but." Alfred stopped short. He sounded similar to a pouting child. "I don't like your friends, Mattie." _I'm jealous of them. I want you to be mine and mine only._

There was a pause.

"And I don't like all of your friends either, but do you see me going around and killing them off because I didn't like the attention you were getting?" his brother replied bluntly.

Operation Get Matthew to Realize Alfred Loves Him: Failed. For the twenty seventh time.

"No…" Alfred said slowly. "It's just that…" He pouted. "I love you, Mattie."

Another pause. "I love you too, Alfred. But, again: I don't go running around killing your friends off."

_God damn it you f- _"Forget it, Matt," Alfred said moodily, and hung up.

And people said _he_ was the oblivious one…

He thumbed through his contacts, looking for someone to vent to. Hm…Arthur would yell at him, Francis would try and give him sexual advice- Kiku! His quiet friend was always willing to listen to his angst-ridden rants!

He went a little to far down his list and saw Mark Zuckerberg's number.

That's when Operation Get Matthew to Realize Alfred Loves Him Attempt Number Twenty Eight popped into his mind.

**. . .**

A week later, on a cheerful Tuesday morning, Matthew was interrupted from tea by the sharp ring of his doorbell.

Across the table, his guest, Arthur, arched an eyebrow. "You invited someone else over?" the Englishman queried. His tone suggested that he was about to launch into a lecture of proper mannerisms.

Matthew shot him an apologetic look, rising from his seat. "I'm sorry, Arthur; I don't know who that could be…" He hurried to the front door.

It was a package, contained in a rectangular box, and the address scribbled hastily on the corner showed that it was from Alfred.

_What did he send me?_ Matthew thought. Guilt bubbled up in his chest when he remembered their previous conversation. Alfred had sounded upset when he hung up, but Matthew hadn't meant to make him angry! He hadn't meant for the snappish remark to come out. And it's not that "I love you" meant anything more than brotherly love.

Alfred couldn't possibly love someone like him. He refused to get his hopes up and then have them be crushed.

Matthew shut the door and re-entered the dining room. Arthur watched curiously as the young Canadian opened the box.

Inside was a maid uniform, crisp and brand new, complete with a headdress and stockings.

There was a folded piece of paper on it that read, _"Hey Mattie, I've been dreaming about you wearing this for a while. Love, Al."_

**. . .**

**Matthew Williams** to **Alfred F. Jones** Are you in your home in New York City or Boston?

**Alfred F. Jones** to **Matthew Williams** did u change ur mind and u want to meet me tonight for some fun~?

**Alfred F. Jones** to **Matthew Williams** just kidding lol

**Matthew Williams** to** Alfred F. Jones** No, I want to know because I'm sending back the ridiculous maid uniform.

**Matthew Williams** to **Alfred F. Jones** And call me, you asshole. I want to talk to you.

**. . .**

Matthew stared down moodily at his cup of hot chocolate. He was sitting in the Starbucks that they'd agreed to meet at, but he hated coffee. And Alfred was late.

Surprise, surprise.

On the seat beside him was the maid uniform. He couldn't say that he hadn't been curious; two days before, he'd unfolded it, slipped off his hoodie and shirt, and _might_ have tried it on. He'd felt ridiculous standing there in front of the mirror in that outfit, wondering why Alfred was so eager to get him in it.

Then he'd bent down to pick up Kumajirou and realized how short it really was. That was when he demanded that he and Alfred met up to talk - his southern neighbor really needed to stop acting weird. He had Arthur for that, right…?

The thought made Matthew sink further into depressing thoughts. If Alfred had Arthur, then who would _he_ have? Ivan was too intimidating, Gilbert never really noticed him except when he wanted pancakes, Francis just wanted to have sex, and Lars would try to get him high and _then_ have sex. Come to think of it, Alfred was probably his closest friend that was the most normal…

(And he was the only one he'd fall in love with, but look where that got him. Heartache and angst. Ugh. He felt like a girl.)

At that moment, the bell above the entrance chimed, signaling another arrival. Matthew didn't glance up until someone slid into the seat across him. And when he did look up, he was greeted by a wide grin and baby blue eyes sparkling with mirth. "Hey, Mattie!"

Matthew smiled weakly; it was hard not to. "Hey, Al." He picked up the re-packaged uniform and handed it to the other blond. "I was going to mail it back to you, but I figured this way would be easier."

Alfred shook his head. "No can do, Canada," he said, which set off several metaphorical alarms in Matthew's brain. "If you'll look here…" At that moment, the American startled rifling through a bag that Matthew hadn't seen before. Seconds later, Alfred pulled out a stapled document. He was still grinning widely.

"What is that?" Matthew asked, tone both cautious and weary. When Alfred's grin only stretched wider, he reached across and took the document. "The Terms of Service? For Facebook?" What did _this_ have to do with anything?

"Skip to the end!" Alfred chirped.

Matthew flipped to the third and last page, eyes scanning the paper. He was about to ask what he was supposed to be looking for until his gaze landed on the last paragraph, which was circled smugly with red pink. " '_In addition to complying with these rules, Matthew Williams(aka Canada), you are to submit to Alfred F. Jones (aka the Hero) as his personal maid for the duration of at least a year. He is to do what ever Alfred asks…'_ W-What the fuck is this?"

Several customers shot him patronizing glances and a mother covered her child's ears. Canada took no notice, proceeding to read the rest of the paragraph. He snarled nasty curses in both French and English, mostly directed at his idiotic brother(who was still sitting there, smiling stupidly). By the end of the last sentence, the Canuck was absolutely fuming.

"I did _not_ agree to this! You just copied and pasted this and had England type up that stupid paragraph or something!" Of course, that's the clean version of what he said. Every other word was a curse word. "I will _not_ be your maid!"

That got them even more weird looks.

**. . .**

**Matthew Williams** Fuck you Alfred fuck you fuck you fuck you**  
>Alfred F. Jones<strong> and **Peter Kirkland **like this.

**Alfred F. Jones** gimme a time and place ;)**  
>Francis Bonnefoy,<strong> **Elizabeta H.,** and **Peter Kirkland** like this.

**Matthew Williams** Fuck you!**  
>Peter Kirkland<strong> likes this.

**. . .**

"B-But…" Funny. Alfred looked convincingly disappointed. Matthew had to remind himself that his brother was a rather good actor. "I had to fly two planes to talk to Mark Zuckerberg to change your ToS!" he protested.

Matthew's eyes twitched. "You wasted your time, then." He didn't bother masking his snide tone.

Alfred pouted and he even tore up a little. "But Mattie…I love you…"

Matthew froze, eyes going wide. Then they narrowed into slits and he practically threw the papers at his brother's face. He lowered his head so Alfred wouldn't see his eyes shiny with tears. "I'm not doing it." He stood from the table promptly.

_You love Arthur. Or Kiku. Or even freaking Natalya. Anyone but _me.

"Mattie-"

His brother was out the door before he could finish.

**. . .**

**Francis Bonnefoy** to **Matthew Williams** I'm stopping by for dinner; I made some of your favorite chocolate cake!~

**. . .**

**Gilbert Beilschmidt** to **Matthew Williams** HEY MATT I'M COMING OVER FOR PANCAKES IN AN HOUR K?

**. . .**

**Gilbert Beilschmidt** wtf? No one locks the door on the Awesome!**  
>Gilbert Beilschmidt <strong>likes this.

**Arthur Kirkland** Good. I never approved of you, anyway.

**Alfred F. Jones, Ivan Braginsky,** and **3 others **like this.

**Peter Kirkland** and stop Liking ur own posts!**  
>Peter Kirkland <strong>likes this.

**Francis Bonnefoy** Ah don't worry Gilbert, the door was locked when I visited last night as well

**Francis Bonnefoy** I'm sure Matthieu's just not feeling well

**. . .**

**Matthew Williams** im matthew and I love Alfred thiiiiiiiis much :D  
><strong>Francis Bonnefoy<strong> and **Alfred F. Jones** like this.

**Lars van Rijn** Get off matthew's account, alfred

**Matthew Williams** dick

**. . .**

**Arthur Kirkland** to **Matthew Williams** Matthew, are you all right? You're not answering anyone's calls or posts.

**Matthew Williams** to **Arthur Kirkland** I'm fine. Don't worry.

**Arthur Kirkland** to **Matthew Williams** Alfred hacked into your account and he hasn't come limping to me yet. Something has to be wrong.

**Arthur Kirkland** to** Matthew Williams** And as the friend you decided to keep on Facebook, I deserve to know.

**Matthew Williams** to **Arthur Kirkland** …Can you come over?

**Arthur Kirkland** to** Matthew Williams** I'll bring your favorite food.

**. . .**

"Rapist!" Arthur Kirkland's peaceful Thursday night was interrupted by the sound of his door being kicked in. "Y-You…you fiend!" And when he looked up from his book of Edgar Allan Poe, there stood Alfred in the doorway, looking as crazy as the murderer in the Tell Tale Heart.

Arthur shot him an irritated look. "What are you here for now, wanker? Did Matthew finally kick your sorry arse?"

In two strides, Alfred was in front of his former-father/colonizer/whatever-he-was. "You defiled Mattie!" the boisterous male nearly shouted. "How could you steal his virginity and corrupt his pureness, you-"

He was cut off by Arthur slugging him across the face. He stumbled back, surprised. He almost forgot that Arthur used to be one of the most feared pirates… (Even though they probably only feared his facial hair.)

"Think before you run your mouth, you idiot!" Arthur snarled at him. "And what in the bloody blazes would make you think that I had intercourse with your brother?"

Alfred was fazed by the use of large words for a moment. He quickly regained his composure, face twisting into a frown. "I saw your posts on Facebook. You said you'd bring his favorite food."

Arthur elbowed him harshly in the side as he returned to his chair. "What do pancakes have to do with that?" he said gruffly. He thought of Matthew as more of a son, anyway.

"Maple syrup." Alfred started pacing. "You think I couldn't figure it out, Iggy? Guess what? I did! Everyone knows that Mattie gets practically drunk whenever he drinks more than one bottle of syrup!"

Arthur stopped in the midst of picking up his book.

"A-And I swear to God if you touched him, I'll- I'll-" Alfred gave up with a frustrated whine. "I'll do something really bad! I'll nuke England!"

"Alfred, calm down, I didn't-"

" 'Cause I know that Matt's adorable, but he belongs to me. I've already fended off Gilbert, Francis, and Lars; I can take you on, Iggy." And then a look of determination replaced his frown.

Arthur wasn't sure whether to be awed or annoyed. He chose the former. "You do love him, huh?" he asked, all traces of anger gone from his features. He supposed he'd always known; Matthew and Alfred were closer than any of the other nations.

Alfred's shoulder seemed to droop. "Y-Yeah." He slumped into the chair adjacent to Arthur's, looking defeated. "But every time I tell him, he waves it off. Or he runs away." He paused. "Or both."

"That's because you never sound serious." Arthur busied himself with finding his page again. "Matthew loves you too, but he thinks you love him in more of a brotherly way."

Alfred looked confused.

"And not only that, but he thought," Arthur coughed, "that you and I were in a relationship."

Insert awkward silence here.

"But…we're not…" was Alfred's ever-so-brilliant reply.

Arthur whacked him over the head with his book. "Of course not, you git!" he scolded. "Matthew clearly thinks otherwise, though, so-"

Alfred leaped up from his chair. "-So I'll go barge into his house, grab him, and drag him to the bedroom!"

"_Alfred,_ for the love of the Queen, don't-"

"Thanks! Love ya lots, Iggy! But I love Mattie more!" Alfred was out of the Englishman's with a loud laugh.

**. . .**

**Alfred F. Jones **WTF WHY IS HIS DOOR LOCKED?

**Arthur Kirkland** I was going to tell you that if you hadn't suddenly up and left the room. Bloody hell.

**Alfred F. Jones** no time for ur british slang dude! I'm on a mission for the man I love!

**Alfred F. Jones** LOLWAIT I just got an idea! I'm a genius! Mattie's gonna love me for sure!

**. . .**

"Matthieu! Let me in; I'm worried for you!"

Francis had never really noticed him before, but he was definitely noticing now. For once, Matthew wished that his invisibility "powers" would kick in. He wanted to sulk.

"I'm fine, Francis," he insisted, pushing the door back. Francis was strong, but Matthew was the second largest country. The Canadian was easily able to close the door and thumb the lock. "Really! I'm fine."

_I'm lonely and sad and depressed. But yes, Papa, I'm fine._

A deranged smile spread across his face.

"At least tell me what happened!"

He felt a little guilty. Francis probably had good intentions, but he really wanted to be left alone.

Matthew wandered to his bedroom, slumping into his chair with a sigh. He opened up Facebook. He hadn't checked his account in over three weeks - correction: he hadn't made human contact in over three weeks. He dreaded seeing his inbox spammed with messages from Alfred.

Upon logging in, however, he was met with an unusual surprise.

The Terms of Service box popped up on his screen.

"What's he trying to pull now?" Matthew mumbled sulkily. He absently petted Kumajirou's fur. Should he even bother?

He skimmed through it, keeping an eye out for words like "maid," "servant," or anything as perverse. He found nothing until he reached the last paragraph…

"_In addition to compliance with these Terms of Service, you also accept Alfred F. Jones's apology. He understands that he was being an oblivious dick._

"_But he really does love Mattie, and before anyone asks, _no_, he and Arthur are not in a relationship._

"_The only person he wants to be in a relationship with is Matthew Williams. He promises to love him and cherish him and spoil him rotten, because that's what heroes do to their damsels._

"_He also promises to never bring up a maid costume again. Unless Mattie changes his mind._

"_Will you love this hopeless idiot back?"_

And the words _I Agree_ had been replaced with _I Do._ The _I Don't_ option was grayed out, but that didn't matter.

Matthew clicked _I Do _before standing to grab his keys, well on his way to Alfred's house.

(Along with second thoughts about that maid costume.)

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Just a silly thing I wanted to write. I already wrote something titled "Status: In a Relationship" and "Privacy Policy" so I decided, "Why not write something titled 'Terms of Service?' "

Also. I'm sorry that I'm neglecting my other stories. D:

/sulks in cave_  
><em>


End file.
